


till it be morrow

by seofim



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pining, au where romeo didn't become a murderhobo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seofim/pseuds/seofim
Summary: Paris thinks Romeo works too hard, and burns the oil too far past midnight, but he can't quite go so far as to tell him to sacrifice less of himself for his country. So on days like tonight, where Romeo stays up well past sundown hunched over papers and seals, Paris seats himself across from him and works just the same.





	

**Author's Note:**

> stops grinding granblue long enough to write about granblue

Sometimes, Paris wonders what it would be like to have lived another life. One where Juliet had married him. One where he had left on a journey with Gran. One where he had killed his best friend when he'd bared his neck and begged him to.

He doesn't dwell too long on the last one. There is no universe where he could have gone through with it, he's certain, no matter how noble and unselfish he wished he would be, no matter how hard it is for him to ever refuse Romeo anything when he looks at him like he did then. Besides, Romeo is not complex. It's easy to indulge him, but just as easy to knock him on the head and tell him, "We'll find another way. We always do."

The restoration of Verona is a task no one is quite prepared for, but they're getting through each day. Paris had looked at Juliet, observed how beautifully she'd grown both in character and as a ruler, and felt at peace with how surrounded she was by people who love her. And he had thought of Romeo, alone his castle with a heavy hood hiding his face.

When Paris told her, "I want to be with him," she simply said, "I understand."

They fit into each other's lives in ways neither of them knew could be so natural. Paris thinks Romeo works too hard, and burns the oil too far past midnight, but he can't quite go so far as to tell him to sacrifice less of himself for his country. So on days like tonight, where Romeo stays up well past sundown hunched over papers and seals, Paris seats himself across from him and works just the same.

"You can go to bed," Romeo says like he says every night, and Paris casually refuses like he does every time.

"I have work to attend to," he says, even though both of them know that's not strictly true. In Montague, Paris is little more than fancy guest with an extended period of stay. Whatever paperwork he takes for himself, he slips off from Romeo's load when he knows it's something that would normally be distributed to an advisor or some other noble if Romeo had anyone but himself to depend on.

(He does. He has Paris.)

Tonight, Romeo sets his quill down only when he can barely keep his eyes open. "Please sleep, Paris," he says again while he yawns.

Paris laughs a little. "Not until you sleep first," he says as he stands up and makes his way over to Romeo's side of the table. He picks his cloak up from where it's draped over his seat, and gently lays it across Romeo's shoulders. "Get up, it's getting cold."

"Mmnn," is the only response he gets.

Paris reaches out and brushes away some of the golden hair that's fallen over his eyes, and Romeo leans against his fingers lightly. "You can't sleep at the desk again tonight. Last time you couldn't turn your neck for two days."

"Watch me," Romeo mumbles in reply and his breath tickles Paris's skin when he huffs.

( _I do_ , Paris thinks. He watches him because there's no one else left who will.)

Their lamp gets dimmer by the second, and Paris rolls his eyes and leans down, hooking an arm under Romeo's legs and picking him up without warning.

"What are you doing?!" he shrieks as vehemently as his exhausted body will let him even though it's far from the first time Paris has done this. He doesn't struggle, however, and sinks against the other man's chest easily as he carries him out the door. Not even the servants are awake this hour to whisper at the sight, although it would hardly be something worthy of gossip anymore.

"Taking you to bed," Paris mutters mostly for his own self-indulgent amusement, as Romeo is already half asleep and incoherent. All he gets in response is a warm hand touching his wrist.

Paris takes them his own room. He always reasons that it's closer, Romeo wouldn't care, they've done this before, but there's really no reason to argue with himself when he knows it's because seeing Romeo in his bed fills him with the sort of warmth that stays with him for entire days. The room itself is only a few steps away from the study, a guest bedroom Romeo had presented to him with a promise that it would be the most convenient location for the majority of his work. He shifts Romeo a little to push the door open, and walks slowly over to his bed to lay him down.

"Cmm fhhere," Romeo manages to say, even though Paris is already getting ready to lay down next to him. They've long gotten past any awkwardness about sleeping together, after months of the same nightly routine. Romeo, Paris found, likes to cling tightly to anything he can reach when he sleeps.

Romeo is fast asleep not a minute after he wraps an arm around Paris's waist and presses his head into the crook of his neck. Paris thinks, like he always does, that it's fortunate that he's only ever half conscious in these situations because he can't hear Paris's heart beating so fast. Tonight, like every other night, he allows himself to press a light kiss against Romeo's forehead before drifting off into sleep himself.

\---

By the time either of them wake up, the sun is high in the sky and a servant has already left them food for two meals by the bedside. Paris gently untangles himself from the body wrapped around him in order to get dressed, and the jostling slowly wakes Romeo up as well. There's drool on his face (and on Paris, for that matter) and his hair sticks up messily on his left side. He blearily blinks into the light, finding Paris after rubbing his eyes awake and looking around the room.

Paris knows he's absolutely done for because Romeo gives him a sloppy smile, with the sun illuminating him in gold light, and the only thing he can think about is how beautiful he is.

**Author's Note:**

> [fim_money](https://twitter.com/fim_money)


End file.
